


Killing With Kindness

by coloursflyaway



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4402421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy overhears Harry calling another recruit his <em> dear boy</em> and draws his own conclusions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killing With Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt would be this:  
> Hartwin prompt! So everyone knows Eggsy is Harry's 'dear boy'. But one day, Eggsy hears Harry calling a new recruit by the same name and was like WTF BRUV, THOUGHT WE WERE EXCLUSIVE!! Anyway, jealous Eggsy is jealous, proceeds to be passive aggressive to Harry who is so puzzled. Of course it turns out the recruit is Harry's nephew/godson or something. I just want jealous Eggsy who doesn't know how to handle his emotions in the right way.

_You should have known_ , whispers a small voice in Eggsy’s head, one of those he hears occasionally but tries to ignore as much as he can.  
_You should have known_ , the voice repeats, and Eggsy is too shocked to even shake his head like he usually does, trying to make it stop.  
_You should have known_ , it whispers again and again, and Eggsy thinks, yeah, he should have. After all, this was far too good to be true.

He turns around without a word, before Harry has even seen him.

 

The worst thing is that Eggsy knows the words. He knows the position they were standing in, Harry’s hand on the boy’s arm, and even though he couldn’t see the look on Harry’s face, he knows that too. It’s soft and mildly amused, his lips curling around the words _My dear boy_ , his eyes warm and sparkling.  
He has sent the same look to Eggsy countless times, just like he has called him his _dear boy_ more often than Eggsy can count, and somehow, he always thought it made them special. Not just that, of course, there was the kissing and the touching and the staying-the-night, the countless times he had woken up in Harry’s bed, one of them pleasantly sore.  
But they never really put a name to it, never really spoke too much about it, and maybe Eggsy knows why now. He had always been too busy or too afraid to ask, and really, it hadn’t seemed too important to have a label he could put on them, at least until now.

Now, Eggsy wishes they had, even if only to spare him the pain.

 

He doesn’t talk to Harry for the rest of the day, which might be strange since he usually spends as much time as possible in the older man’s office, but no one comes to ask him about it; Eggsy tries his best not to feel too bitter about it.

 

The next morning, Eggsy sees Harry with him again, the boy who is more or less Eggsy a year ago. A candidate, Harry’s candidate for Bors’ positon, top of his class, handsome and clever, with the same dirty blonde hand that Eggsy sees every time he looks into the mirror. Even a bit of an accent that taints his vowels, swallows his consonants.  
Apparently Harry has a type.

The older man sends him a smile when he spots him and the recruit - Jack, John, Jeff, whatever – turns around, waves a little bit. It takes everything that Eggsy has for him not to just turn around and run.

 

That evening, just before Eggsy packs his things and goes home, there is a knock at the door. Soft, but still impossible to overhear, so he calls the person inside, even if he knows who it is, knows he doesn’t want to see him.  
Harry looks like he always does, no glasses to cover brown eyes, and the worst thing about him is that Eggsy’s heart still skips a beat when he looks at him.

“Hello”, Harry says, stops in the middle of the room when he sees that Eggsy is getting up, stuffing random packs of paper into his bag. “Oh, perfect timing. I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to come and have dinner with me? We could get Thai, maybe, there is this new place Merlin recommended some time ago…”  
A few days ago, Eggsy would have been all smiles, all _yes please_ , but even if he still wants to, he looks at Harry now and hears him say, _yes of course, my dear boy, I’ve got all evening_ , to someone who isn’t him.

So instead, he says, “Nah, thanks. I’ve told mum and Daisy I’d come over for dinner tonight.”  
It’s a lie, but it doesn’t seem to matter, and if Harry looks disappointed, that doesn’t matter either.  
“Oh, I see.” The other smiles, clasps his hands in front of his body and tenses just a little bit. “I guess that means I’ll see you tomorrow then.”  
For a moment or two Eggsy doesn’t know what Harry is talking about, but then he realises that it’s Tuesday. Which means that tomorrow is Wednesday and Wednesday has been the evening they spend together for, oh, it feels like it’s been like that since the end of time.

And so Eggsy can’t quite say no, nods instead. “Yeah, sure.”  
And flees.

 

He doesn’t want to, but he is standing in front of Harry’s door at eight o’ clock, still in his work suit, a bottle of wine in his hand. It feels like always and that is an almost painful thought.  
Still, he rings the door, waits until Harry opens it only a few moments later. The other must have been home for a longer time, because he has changed already, looks at Eggsy without glasses between them, dressed in a white shirt and a soft, red cardigan and grey trousers. He looks relaxed, a smile on his lips and the first three buttons of his shirt undone, revealing just enough skin to draw Eggsy’s gaze there.

As always, his first impulse is to kiss Harry, but that only lasts a second, then Eggsy settles for saying, “Hello, hope I’m not too early?”  
Ever since they kissed the first time – blood on Eggsy’s lips that either belonged to him or someone whose life he had taken, fumbling hands and desperate nips, because he had thought he’d die, because he had needed Harry to _know_ all of a sudden – they haven’t gone this long without a touch when they were both in the same country. It’s something that Eggsy only realises now, something which makes him ache, because he doesn’t know if it feels as strange for Harry as it does for him, or if he’s been more than busy kissing his new boy.

Because looking at Harry, Eggsy doesn’t know if he even notices; the older man just greets back, steps aside to let Eggsy in.  
“I’m afraid I didn’t really have the motivation to cook today”, Harry says lightly, accepts the bottle of wine when Eggsy holds it out. “Work was hell. So I took the liberty of ordering in, I hope Chinese is alright?”  
“’Course”, Eggsy replies, mumbles so quietly that Harry most likely has problems understanding what he is saying at all. “What was wrong at work anyway?”

It feels like a safe topic to talk about, and Harry doesn’t seem to mind, at least judging from the smile on his lips as he leads Eggsy into the living room where dinner is set out already, five different cartons of take-out food waiting for them.  
“I didn’t know what you would want”, Harry explains, gesturing at the table before he sits down, waits for Eggsy to do the same. “As for work… it was mainly the new recruits. I never thought that recruitment would mean so much work for Arthur.”

There is a kind smile on Harry’s face still, but Eggsy freezes, his hand outstretched to grab one of the cartons. So much for a safe topic.  
“Ah sure, the _new recruits_ ”, he mutters, can’t stop himself from sounding angry, bitter. “I’m sure those are a lotta work. And ya seem to care so much after all.”  
“In fact, I do.” Harry looks surprised, a little confused, but Eggsy doesn’t bother to elaborate. He doesn’t know if he could without screaming. “There are a few quite promising candidates this year. Roxy’s for example, Igor, has some of the highest weapon scores I have ever seen for a boy this young. And Tristan’s Natalia seems to have quite the knack for languages, as far as I have gathered. Even Merlin is impressed.”

There is a pause, then Harry smiles again, almost secretively, like he does when he tells Eggsy something he shouldn’t, says, “But of course I have taken a particular interest in Jack.”  
And that’s it, that’s the last straw – it’s one thing when Harry sleeps around, but rubbing it under his nose like that, as if he expected Eggsy to be okay with it, that’s another thing entirely.  
“What?”, he hisses, even while he starts to get up. “Seriously, Harry? Fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking new boy toy. I just hope he won’t be stupid enough to think ya care.”

 

He’s out of the house before Harry can even get up, tears prickling in his eyes and half a sob stuck in his throat.  
Next time he’ll know better.

 

Eggsy is at his second beer, still cursing himself that he doesn’t have anything stronger at home, when the bell rings. His mum is out on a date with her new boyfriend, won’t come home tonight, so he doesn’t have any choice but to get up and open it, no matter how much he wants to sit in his room and get so drunk he won’t remember Harry’s face anymore.  
He doesn’t bother to look through the spy and regrets that a moment afterwards; Harry Hart is standing outside, his hands firmly clasped in front of him and a few strands of hair hanging into his forehead.  
Eggsy almost slams the door shut again.

“What the fuck do you want?”, he asks instead, because as much as he’d like to deny it right now, Harry has changed him, has made him at least partly into the gentleman Eggsy never thought he’d be.  
“To talk to you”, Harry answers without a second of hesitation, and if Eggsy didn’t know better, he’d say that the other man sounds distressed. “Please.”  
“’S a bit late for that, innit?”

Eggsy crosses his arms in front of his chest; his voice is cold and angry, but he doesn’t care anymore, just wants Harry to leave and stop trying to fix something he broke himself.  
“I hope not.” There is a kind of wry, desperate smile on Harry’s face, but Eggsy doesn’t smile back. “Can I come inside? I would rather not explain this out on the street.”  
“No fuckin’ way. You ain’t steppin’ a foot into this house again.”  
Eggsy’s voice is somewhere between iron and silver, sharp and unforgiving; Harry hangs his head for a second, resigned.

“Of course. I apologise.” There is a pause of a few moments, and Eggsy considers closing the door after all, now that Harry looks distracted, but then the older man looks up again, directly at him. And Eggsy, goddamnit, still loves him. “The thing is, you seem to have misunderstand something.”  
Eggsy can’t help but snort. “So Jack’s not your _dear boy_ , then?”  
“That he is.” Harry looks nervous and Eggsy feels his heart sink, which is surprising. He thought it had already reached rock bottom. “But he is also my nephew.”

Of all the things Eggsy expected to hear, this is none of them.  
“What.” This time, his voice doesn’t cut through the air, it’s flat and quiet, disbelieving. He’s too confused to even feel relieved, because Harry never mentioned a sibling, let alone nephews, nieces.  
“My nephew. I proposed him both as a favour to my sister and because he reminded me of you.” Harry’s voice is relieved, just like he sounded after Eggsy had lost contact for a few hours on a mission in Paraguay and no one at HQ had known if he was like alive or dead. “He went through some difficult years, and it’s good to see him doing so well now.”  
“…so you’re not shaggin’ him?” It’s probably the dumbest question Eggsy has ever asked, and yet he can’t stop himself, needs to hear it.  
“Oh God, no. Of course not. Is that what you thought?”

“Yeah.” Suddenly it sounds stupid, because all he heard were a few words, and yet… maybe Merlin was right, maybe he has to take that chip off his shoulder. “It’s just- I heard ya callin’ him that, your _dear boy_ , and ya only started callin’ me that after we started – y’know, and I thought maybe ya just liked fuckin’ your candidates or somethin’.”  
By the time he has finished, Harry is staring at him like he just punched him in the face, shocked and hurt, and all of a sudden, Eggsy feels horrible because of a completely different reason. Because a relationship should be built on mutual trust, shouldn’t it be?

Before he can apologise, Harry has taken a step forward, is speaking again and his voice sounds like nothing Eggsy has ever heard, something between passionate and distressed. “I would never do that to you. Never.”  
He sounds so earnest, his hair still a mess, at least for Harry’s standard, and Eggsy doesn’t even have time to be relieved that Harry still wants him and only him, because he’s too busy feeling like the world’s biggest twat for not trusting Harry enough to at least talk to him. After all, Harry always trusted him, even at a time when Eggsy wouldn’t have trusted himself.  
“I’m sorry”, he offers weakly, and it doesn’t seem to be enough, but the words change something in Harry’s eyes anyway, make them soften again, make them a bit brighter. He looks more like himself again and all Eggsy can think about is that he almost ruined this because of something so riduculous. “I shouldn’t have- or rather, I should’ve talked to ya about it. Not just stormed off. Y’know?”

A smile, soft and strangely soothing, stretches Harry’s thin lips, and Eggsy smiles back, tentative but still.  
“It would definitely have made things easier”, Harry agrees, steps a little bit closer. “For both of us.”  
“Yeah.” Eggsy flushes just a little bit, bites his lips. He’s not quite sure what he can say to fix this, because no words really seem to fit. “I guess it’s just still strange t’ think that you could want someone like me.”  
It’s more of a thought, something directed more at himself than the other, and not even the first time that Eggsy says that, most likely won’t be the last time either, but as always, Harry tuts, shakes his head. “Eggsy…”  
“Yeah, I know, I know”, he says, tries to smile. “I’ll stop-”

“But you don’t”, Harry interrupts him, which surely isn’t gentlemanly at all, reaches out and takes Eggsy by the shoulders, his hands burning into Eggsy’s skin even through the sleeves of his hoodie. Harry’s touch has always been so special, so intense. “My dear, darling boy. You don’t.”  
And maybe he doesn’t, maybe Harry is right, but before he can say a thing, the other man kisses him like he has never kissed him before. It’s neither gentle nor rough but something in the middle, passionate and loving, for the lack of a better word, it makes Eggsy tremble, makes him grasp at Harry’s cardigan, the wool soft in his hands. It feels like Harry is pouring himself into the kiss, and all Eggsy can do is the same.

After what feels like an eternity, the older man pulls away, breathing hard, and Eggsy is only half-aware that he has tears in his eyes, because he never thought he would have this again and because he can’t remember ever feeling like this. Like he is being cared for, like someone would come after him and make sure they’d work it out, because they want to keep him in their life. Just him, stubborn and reckless and foolish as he is.  
Eggsy’s hands are still clinging onto Harry when the other pulls him close, wraps his arms around him, lets Eggsy bury his face in the crook of the other’s neck.  
“My poor, silly darling”, Harry mutters into his hair, and Eggsy can’t even answer, there are no words, so he just makes a sound at the back of his throat, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.  
He’s loved, and he doesn’t know how he ever doubted that.  
“Do you understand now?”

And Eggsy does.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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